


Stilted

by urbanMystic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Bodily Fluids, Bondage, F/F, Painplay, Rope Bondage, Safewords, Spanking, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanMystic/pseuds/urbanMystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into what a short-lived black fling might have looked like between Porrim and Latula. Non-Sexual Kink by request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stilted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aondeug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aondeug/gifts).



> I want to clarify that although no sex happens in this work, the characters are depicted as being sexually aroused by the scene. The bodily fluids mentioned are fluids produced by arousal.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the scene.

Latula knew her kismesis was huffy as soon as she heard the footsteps. The elegantly poised rainbow drinker had a way of skulking about the hallways that left no trace, until a certain mutantblood opened his mouth. Truth be told, Latula even liked Kankri. He seemed to stay quiet when she was near, and she knew that despite his tendency to speak over others, he meant well. Besides, how was the radgurl gonna bash on someone for being so excited about radical equality? Radness was part of the gig.

Still, Porrim flew off the handle again and again and again: hypocritical, disrespectful, obsessive. rather than her usual apathy, the roof of Latulas mouth dried and she could feel her hands ache to slap that pierced face. It was the sort of bullshit that you wanted to /make/ personal, even if it wasn't, because there had to be a revolt against an arching body like that getting angry over petty shit. Also Porrim made a fun sound when you slapped her. The gamer grinned a little remembering the first time it had happened.

But fun memories didn't change the irritation, and as the fashionista's ballet flats popped around the corner Latula spoke up.

"Whats up your nook, Pornstar?" She didn't even turn her head to look, focused on the video game in front of her, slouching in the pile of pillows and bean bags she had set up while still alive.

Porrim sneered at the name, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. "You dont wanna hear it," she snapped. The jadeblood hadn't even been planning to run into Latula. She had been trying to get back to a memory of her hive to cool off alone, but the dreambubbles were a treacherous space, and here she had landed, in a memory of her lover's hive instead. In wouldn't have been a surprise if she had been thinking clearly. What better place to cool off than the badical stylings and strong arms of this tealblood?

"You're right," the athlete smirked, "I dont. It's Kankri. It's always Kankri. Let it go, Po-Mary." There was a little tooth in her grin, a little knot to her eyebrows that betrayed her annoyance. 

"but he's just SO WRONG." well, if Porrim was here, she was going to make the most of it. She wasn't even complaining at that particular moment, just going through the motions in a singsong voice and a grin on her face to see how Latula would rise to the bait. Maybe it would help her feel better.

It was then that Radglare gave some tough love, some black honesty, "Okay, you gotta chill, girl. Like you're smart and cute and all, but sometimes you gotta stop letting people wind you up. Damn. DOn't think you can come in here to may lair of radness and complain about Kankri going on long winded whatever, but who makes you listen to them? No one. Take your own advice and shut up for five seconds."

The other young lady grinned like she had won something, "I haven't even started? But, tell you what: if you help me relieve some stress, I'll think about leaving Kankri alone from now on."

"You won't," came the laughing reply, "but alright. I can give you some medicine." She put down the video game controller and stood up to grab her lover by the hair at the base of her neck.

The skater then peered into her sylladex and pulled out some rope. Porrim and her had done ropework before, so the ranting jadeblood didn't have much to say as the mind player went through the motions calmly, weaving the twists up, over and through each other in a series of practiced loops and curves.

The tie started wrists-to-opposite-elbows behind Porrim's back, then came up over the back and over the shoulders, down in between her legs and back up to her forearms: two hearty lengths like rough overalls. The tie then split the ropes into left and right sides to wrap front-to-back-to-front across the waist, under the breasts, over the breasts. Each pass brought the "overall" shoulder straps together in the middle, like countour lines on a nude model.

"...and the hemospectrum is important, and I respect him talking about mutantblood issues, but he can't seriously mean to speak for psychic lowbloods conscripted to military service..." The rant had been continuing the WHOLE TIME, daring the rope-tying gamer on, causing much grinding of teeth and mild scowling. Porrim was in an odd space herself: irritated with Kankri, irritated with herself for being unable to elt it go, and deeply curious about what she had gotten herself into this time. It swirled in her stomach as she placidly let herself get moved to and fro.

Somewhere on their way to the nearest sturdy table, Latula grabbed Porrim's chin and looked at her through red glasses. "Your safeword is red, same as always. Rough hands had a way of waking a body up, of making it hungry for more. Whimpers and gasps had been rising out of Porrim like little squeaks from a greasy wheel in between complaints and whines and giggles and had given the dom flashes of a grin here and there. Certainly it had given a tight feeling in Latula's chest, one of anticipation.

"So long as we're dishing out honesty," the tied-up troll teased, "When are you going to admit that you have flushed feelings for more than Mituna?"

"Can't admit something that ain't true," Latula half-growled, another effort between the two to up the irritation ante, to raise bloodpushers and warm tempers.

The ropework had been placed over Porrim's dress, crushing the fabric in awkward ripples, encasing Porrim's torso in a cage made just for her. Her arms were behind her back, held by delicate lattice, one that hugged the front of her like a picture frame, separating her breasts and contouring the soft pudge of her stomach.

The huffing was real this time, not meant to nudge Latula but earnest in its frustration, "He cares about what blood color folks identify as and he can't care about voting restrictions and the obvious faults in the 'meritocracy' the highbloods are so fond of..." The rant had come back, only partially paused by all the teasing, perhaps it had come back for lack of something else to say.

Something was going to have to be done about this, clearly. Latula bent Porrim over a nearby table, and started to work on attaching her ankles to the table legs, spreading them a little.

"Is this too tight?"

"No, but he just-"

"When he says he doesn't care about feminism it's almost like he's saying he doesnt care about you?"

The dominant had hit the nail on the head, but confronting Porrim with the truth wasn't enough for her to stop wanting to mother the mutantblood preacher. She was speechless, flushing, and finally her mild irritation turned to its proper target and swelled to rage: Latula. Latula who was strong, but hid behind a mask. Latula who was excellent at reading people but never stepped up to help. Latula whose flushed quadrant was filled by a loving boy, and that Porrim wanted to touch so very, very badly.

"I don't think-" Anyone could practically hear Porrim roll her eyes, she had gotten so defensive.

There was a loud slap, and then a burning spreading across Porrim's ass. Latula had to have quite a swing to make it hurt like this through fabric. "You don't think," she spat, "That's right babz."

The rainbow drinker fairly glowed with rage, "Can you stop calling me babz? It's demeaning"

The skater laughed, smug and happy once more, "Nope. Now, whats your safeword?"

"Red"

"Baller." There was another slap to match the first, "now shutup."

"What inspired this?" Maryam teased. The spankings felt damn good, warmth came from those red-gloved hands, and she wanted to earn as many of those as she could bear. Her smirk matched Latula's, only Latula wasn't the one tied to a table.

"Yo for real," Porrim felt herself get raised up by a firm grasp on her hair, she would have fallen if she had been let go, seeing as her ankles were tied to different table legs. Her back arched, a mockery of the stretch of orgasm, and her kismesis side-eyed her over the classic red specs. Her voice was a low growl in the submissive's ear, "What part of 'shut the fuck up' did you not hear, Miss Vantas?"

Porrim was finally speechless, too embarrassed by the comparison to Kankri to come up with anything. Fortunately, Pyrope had been telling her to be quiet for a reason: there was a very pleasant beating in the jadeblood's immediate future. The hands coming down were strong and practiced and precise, switching between the cheeks every three strikes or so. The thing about an ass beating that happens quite literally on your ass is that each strike builds up blood flow to the area, making it hurt a larger area in a more intense fashion with each strike. 

So on Latula went, relishing the way Porrim's softness wiggled and made a wake after each strike, tearing off clothing that got in her way with no regard for how the tatters would cling around the ropework they were trapped under. It was savoury to hear Porrim cry out, such a good pain sub, whining and moaning and panting with no shame and no regard for who might hear them. The melody of it echoed in the memory like a siren, cleaning the air of the complaining from earlier. So too, Porrim's mind was getting clean, replacing frustration with endorphins, reminding her that what mattered was pleasure, was the slime that pooled between her legs and ruined Latula's glove when it dared venture too close.

"Tch," she clicked her teeth, "you ruined my gloves, Maryam."

That was when the gloves came off, and like a guitarist who had come to their solo, Latula played her fingernails all over what she could reach of her subject, particular the the back of her thighs. Blood was drawn, but only the thinnest lines of emerald , not even enough to drip. The marks pattered the empty spaces in the latticework that cradled Porrim, dug in and pressed down and raked. That made Porrim outright scream in pain, but each ear-splitting gash gave way to a low hum of the throat after a moment, every wave crashed into the shore of her pleasure and lust, and she would have begged for more if she could only find her voice. 

And Porrim's mind went blank, blessedly empty, finally able to stop caring about the sweater-ridden fool who couldn't accept her care for him, who couldn't feel how out-of-quadrant her feelings were, who couldn't even see her in her fullness. Now there was only Latula, the camaraderie of two young women building each other up to be stronger, the tealblood's deft hands writing a new chapter on her body, even if it was temporary, writing a future where maybe for once the little mother could take her tattoos and be done with the whirlwind inside of her that needed to feel needed, needed to care.

They had created quite a sight, two sets of lubricant-spoiled clothes and one troll in tatters held together only by a practiced lattice of knotwork. Where Porrim was a panting, flushed-face mess Latula was a quiet buzzing storm. Satisfaction reigned in her to know Porrim had calmed down from her irritating behavior, though Pyrope would have been lying if she denied the pressure in her own sex.

After her veritable frenzy, she explained herself the way Porrim wanted. She spoke with venom and sadness, "I hate you, because you got so much radness when you aren't talking about Kankri. You get tripped up and fussy over stupid whatevers, but you could be doing so much badical shit. What about Fashion. What about your Rainbow Drinker deal. When do I get to hear more about those kickazz jadebloods you looked up to?"

Porrim was panting and hazy. She replied, "I hate that you have so much sweetness behind this facade of yours."

"You awake?"

"Yeah mostly."

The skater gurl started to untie Porrim slowly. It was a solemn moment, both of them feeling the gaps in themselves as the ropes began to fall away and leave visible marks of their absence. The dom checked in, "What kinda aftercare do you want, you fussy idiot?"

"Aside from some skin lotion?"

"Yeah."

"Can you wash me off?"

Knots came undone in the same way they happened, slowly and with a deft hand. Latula was smiling, and so was Porrim, too tied to fight anymore. The ankles happened last, and the tealblood carried her lover to a pillow pile she remembered, letting the last figments of the dress fall to the floor. Porrim was like a drunkard, eyes half closed and not wanting to move much, vulnerable. Latula put the rope away and got out a damp washcloth to run all over Porrim. She carefully inspected her nails marks, disinfecting the few that looked like they would scab over. As dead trolls, infection wasn't a risk, but the facade of life and the blatant care for Porrim's well being cemented the scene as mutually beneficial.

Washed, Porrim was waking up bit by bit. Her eyes were wide and her body light but she didn't yet feel the need to move unless Latula needed her too. Soon she was naked and lying on her stomah as lotion was rubbed into her sore ass, which didn't help matters in the "getting bulgejuice all over the pillows" department.

It calmed Latula as well, to see the proof that Porrim wanted this, to spend time with another woman without the threat to her rad superiority for a hot minute. Once done, she pulled Porrim in to spoon.

"You're fixing my gloves, Po-Mary."

"You're fixing my dress first."

"You own like a bazillion copies of it."

"And?"

"Fuck you fashion diva," she laughed from her stomach.

Porrim smirked, "Maybe next time."


End file.
